The Heir of Slytherin
by ninesicklesandadungbomb
Summary: Sirius is keeping a secret from Harry, one about his family one that could change the course of history. lvs slash rape, nothing explicit though, attempted suicide. A couple OCs... AU.
1. Don't Tell Harry

**Author's Note**: I don't own anything Rowling made up. The rest, I made up. Naturally. Also, I'm not explaining things HP fans are familiar with. I.E. why Sirius was sent to jail and etc;.

This story sort of… well, I know some might not like the story but that's fine. I wanted to see how far I could stretch this one spark of inspiration. I might have pushed the envelope too much, but I tried not to. I also disregarded the fifth book, so this is sort of the sixth book only with a different story plot to the fifth year of his. It'll explain what happened in this version's fifth year as you go along. The sixth book recently came out, but I have been working on this for months (I'm lazy, and my computer was broken from February to June!). And since I was already writing this, I haven't changed a single relationship due to things in the sixth book. All relationships are what they were originally written as/planned as in my fan fiction.

This entire story was plotted out BEFORE the sixth book (AND fifth!), but this is a spin-off if my own imagination--I mean come on--it's a fanFICTION.

Also, it's a rather long novel-type fanfiction. About 94,000 words. It is finished but I'm not going to put all the chapters this second. I'll update every couple of days.

Anyhoo. I tried to keep the characters within their own nature. But over the years I've speculated what the individuals are like, so my own ideas of parts of their individuality comes out. For instance: I imaged the Marauders as completely crazy, insane, arrogant idiots who followed the beat of their own instruments, none of them a drum.

Also, Aunt Petunia is different. Her character is one that my friend and I have done before, and I liked it for this story.

And though I do change Draco some, I tried to keep him fairly arrogant, mean, snobbish and jerky. But for _his_ character, I've created a past that's been done before but I can see it being the reason behind his manner. If you don't like the way I've made him, or anyone else, don't say so in a review; just stop reading the story. I won't mind. Go ahead. Push 'back' right now. But for those of you who like this story, please I beg of thee to review! Kind sir! Gentle lady! I beseech thee to review:-)

All flames will be used to cook my food to keep my energized for ideas for other fanfics, heat up my bathwater as I soak and think about how shexy Draco is and fry ants because… well, that's fun. After this, all author's notes are at the end of the chapter.

Anyway, this story came from the simple question of: _What if…_

**CHAPTER ONE- Don't Tell Harry**

An incredible thirst woke 15-year old Harry Potter up. He glanced to the side and the illuminated numbers informed him it was just after one am.

He struggled to get out from the sheets that had somehow wrapped around his body. "Urf," He moaned, finally getting free. It was midsummer and sweltering hot as the air conditioner was broken. All he had worn to bed was boxers and he was still slightly sweaty.

"Blimey!" He threw open his window and let the cool night breeze envelope him. The breeze was hot itself but a lot cooler than inside. He was staying with Remus Lupin for a few nights, just to get away from the Dursleys. Remus, and also Harry's godfather: Sirius Black.

Harry leaned against the sill and looked up at the moon; it was beautiful and glowed down on his bare skin. Just basking in the rays made him feel cooled off.

Life this summer had been really good so far. His fifth-year at school had been his second most difficult by far. Second only to his third year when he had to figure out the truth about the death of his parents.

Harry sighed, feeling the thirst in his mouth worsen. He pulled away from the window and headed out into the hall. Harry tiptoed down the stairs and started to go into the kitchen but stopped, hearing voices.

"…tell him, Sirius."

"No. Harry doesn't need to know."

He froze, stopping to the side of the door and listening in. The first voice had been Remus and the second was Sirius. What were they talking about? Well, _him_ obviously. But what _about_ him?

"Yes he _does_. You can't just keep something like this from him."

A new voice came; "Remus is right. You should tell Harry." It was Albus Dumbledore.

Harry sat down, leaning against the wall. He knew it wasn't polite to listen in, but he didn't really care. Besides, who listened to that unwritten rule anyway?

Sirius started again. "What is the point? If there _was_ a point in telling him, I would. But there is _not_."

"Yes there is," Remus said.

"No, there is not. Not telling him won't do harm, telling him wouldn't do good. The truth didn't save James, it won't save Harry. If we do tell him, there is nothing to be gained but trouble on Harry's mind."

Dumbledore gave a sigh. "Sirius, I won't make you tell him. But it _is_ imperative. No, the truth didn't save James. But he _knew_ the truth his whole life. He grew up with—with it preying on his mind night and day. He made his choice. And Harry—Harry is as good as his father, if not better."

"James was good," Sirius growled.

"Sirius, he was good but he _did_ use the truth for selfish reasons sometimes," Remus said. "And you know it."

Someone—Sirius probably—pushed his chair back. "Whose side are you _on_, Remus?" It was Sirius. "James wasn't-"

"No, he wasn't," Remus said casually. "But if we don't tell Harry, things could get bad."

"How? Why? Why could it get bad?" Sirius demanded, doing what sounded like slamming his fist on the table.

"Sirius, please calm down," Dumbledore said firmly. "You are his… you are the closest thing he has to a father. His godfather. Only you can tell him. We won't make you—"

"But—" began Remus.

"We won't make you," Dumbledore repeated, more firm than before. "But we can suggest the best course of action. Which would, in fact, be informing him of this. If he finds out from someone else—which is entirely possible—think of what could happen. The gap that would form between the two of you. Would he trust you? I doubt it."

Harry breathed quietly as things in the kitchen went utterly silent.

"No," Sirius said finally, causing Harry's heart to seize up. "My decision is for him not to know. It will make things easier for him anyway, in the end."

Two other chairs pushed back. "Fine," Dumbledore said. "Have it your way. But don't come crying to me if Harry finds out. Remus?"

"He won't find out from me," sighed the werewolf, sounding depressed. "I promise you that. Dumbledore, I do need to talk to you. I'll be back later, Sirius."

There was the sound of Apparating and Sirius gave a slight moan. "I hate this."

Harry pressed himself into the darkness as Sirius swept past him. He watched him storm into the living room and stretch out on the couch.

Harry crept silently upstairs and got a drink from the tap in the bathroom. Wiping off his lips, he crept into his room and stretched out on his bed, wondering what Sirius was refusing to tell him.

---------- 

The next morning was warm and sticky. Dressing in a T-shirt and shorts, Harry went downstairs to find Sirius and Remus sipping at coffee.

"I'd offer you breakfast, but someone forgot to clean out the pan," Remus said, grinning at him. He didn't look at all like he had been up late, arguing against Sirius about something important. He did have dark circles under his eyes, but he always had those.

"And someone else burnt the toast," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

Harry sniffed. "I smell alcohol."

"I put some in my coffee," Sirius said. "Oh stop looking so worried."

"Orange juice?" Remus offered.

Harry poured himself a glass and sat down. "I wish I could stay here the rest of the summer."

"You're protected at the Dursleys, not here," Remus said, putting a hand on his arm.

Sirius licked his lips, looking worried. "Harry—there's, um, something I need to tell you."

Harry perked up, excited. "Yes?"

"Be careful, okay? Things have—things have changed. Voldemort's itinerary has changed slightly. We don't know what he's planning but… just be careful."

He sighed but nodded. "Yes. I will be. I always am."

He knew something had changed in Voldemort. They had a meeting not long ago—where Harry figured it would end. But Voldemort didn't seem to… to want to try to kill Harry. Harry had managed to escape easier than he expected.

Remus stood up, stretching his tired limbs. "Let's go do something."

"Like what? I can't do anything," Sirius complained.

"In dog form you can," Remus reminded him.

Sirius sighed. "Okay, let's go for a walk in the woods."

---------- 

Sirius had bounded forward, leaving Remus and Harry alone for a few minutes. Harry decided to start trying to dig for the answer to the question: what secret was Sirius keeping from him? But he had to do it tactfully.

"Remus…?"

"Yes?"

Harry licked his lips. "I've been thinking lately of the differences between bad and good. Or rather, good and evil."

"Mm-hmm?"

"And—well I suppose bad and good would be a better one. Because someone can be _bad_ without being _evil_, right?"

"Of course. During school, us Marauders were often bad," the older man said as he picked up a leaf to examine it.

"But you and Sirius and—and my father… you were all really _good_, right? My father was good. Really good."

Remus sighed, brushing his greying hair from his eyes. "He was a good man."

"No, there's a difference between being good and being a good man," Harry said in a low voice.

"Yes… you're right. There is a difference," said Remus, slowly and cautiously.

Harry turned to him. "So, answer me. Was he good?"

"At times," Remus answered. "But at times he was bad."

"Was he terribly… selfish?"

That question jerked Remus around so he was staring at Harry with wide, amber eyes. "What do you mean?" He asked, seeming a bit suspicious.

"Was my father selfish?"

"He died so you could live, Harry. I wouldn't call that selfish." Remus was treading lightly and that answer was a good answer; he was avoiding the real answer without _not_ answering.

Harry picked up a stick and tossed it ahead. "Yes but otherwise. Was he _selfish_?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions?"

"Because I'm curious," Harry grinned. "And if you say curiosity killed the cat, I'll hit you."

Remus laughed. "I wouldn't say that. Asking questions and learning are good things. I'm _proud_ about the fact you are curious. It's good."

Harry looked as Sirius returned to them. "Woof!" He said, wagging his tail.

Harry grinned and patted his godfather's head. "Thanks for letting me stay for a few nights.

"No problem," Remus said, his voice getting a tone as if saying he knew Harry didn't want Sirius to know what he was inquiring. Harry was a bit relieved, and also glad that Remus was smart.

---------- 

The evening brought clouds and some rain. Harry sat on the porch, enjoying the coolness. Remus was reading and Sirius had his dog head on Harry's lap. Harry was scratching behind the perked ears.

"Do I have to go back tomorrow?" He asked, staring at the dark clouds.

"I'm afraid so," Remus said. Sirius licked Harry's hand.

He smiled, wishing he had more time to talk to them. To try to find out 'the big secret'. But tonight he'd have time to talk to Sirius alone, and that might be enough time…

An owl flew down and dropped a letter in Remus's lap. He set his book aside and picked the letter up. "It's from Dumbledore."

"What does it say?" Harry asked.

Remus read it with a spreading grin. "Oh my God, you won't believe this. The Order of the Phoenix had a battle with some Death Eaters."

"Yes?"

"We won—well, that fight. Four Death Eaters had been killed."

"Cool," Harry said brightly, grinning.

"One of them was…" Remus trailed off, wondering how to say it. "There was…"

"Yes?" Harry asked.

"Lucius Malfoy. He was killed."


	2. Kissing Cousins', Not dot dot dot

**CHAPTER TWO- 'Kissing Cousins' Not... **

That night Harry waited a while for Sirius to come in. He always loved seeing his godfather, even though it rarely lasted this long.

Lucius's death was indeed good news—he was a devoted servant to Voldemort and a very bad enemy of Harry—but at this moment he had more important things on his mind.

Such as, how to get the truth from Sirius?

"Sirius."

"What?" He asked, brushing out his long, black hair.

Harry sat up, watching him. He never realised until now how alike his father and godfather looked. The hair was almost the same. The same eyes, too. A hazel colour. He had never noticed that before. It nagged him, but Harry swept it into a corner of his mind. That was trivial compared to some of the things on his mind.

"I'm like my father, aren't I?"

"Very much."

Harry traced designs on his bed cover. "I wish I could have known him."

"He would have been so proud of you," Sirius said with a grin.

"He was good, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"I try to be good."

"You are."

"My father was…" Harry slowly drew out. "I'm sure he was better. More… truthful."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "He lied quite a bit."

"I lie."

"Everybody lies, Harry. It's in our nature," He said, puffing out his chest. "Nobody tells the truth. Why the sudden interest in truth?"

"The Dursleys kept the truth from me. About me being a wizard. And then everyone kept a secret about you being my godfather. They thought I wasn't _ready_ for the truth. I hate those sorts of lies. Keeping things about myself from me."

Sirius gulped; his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

Harry looked innocently up at him. "I think if there's a secret about me, I should know it. Don't you?"

"Y-yes."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Sirius laughed heartily. "You're acting weird, Harry. Let's get some sleep.

---------- 

Sirius was asleep but Harry remained awake, tossing and turning. Why did people insist on keeping secrets from him? About him? Harry stared in the darkness, blinking. What was so important that it would cause him trouble? 'The truth didn't save James', Sirius had said. Why would it have? _Why? Why?_

Questions and more questions poured through his mind so by the time morning came he had barely gotten sleep, but was very active. He made some breakfast for the three of them and made sure everything was in his duffel.

"I can't wait for school to start," Harry said, nibbling on a sausage. "Or to see Ron and Herms."

"I hated summer hols," laughed Sirius. "I had more fun with my friends." He elbowed Remus at that.

Later that morning, he got into Remus's car. Sirius sat in the back in dog form, panting heavily in Harry's ear. Harry sighed, sitting back and wishing he could stay with Remus longer. Away from the blasted Dursleys.

Remus seemed troubled by something. "We need to talk," He said nervously, looking at Sirius's reflection in the rear view mirror.

"Me?" Harry asked.

Remus was silent a second. But then, "Yes, you," he said hesitantly. "About--well, about some changes that are happening."

"Voldemort. We already talked about—"

"No," Remus said, gulping. "Padfoot should be telling you this, not me but he chickened out."

Sirius whimpered and curled into a ball.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked, sitting up. Maybe _now_ the truth will come out.

"Well… the Dursleys… see they… well they…" Remus chewed at his bottom lip. "The Dursleys aren't your only living relatives."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "They aren't?"

"Your mother—well she—"

Sirius growled and Remus coughed. He looked annoyed.

"She and Petunia had another sister." Remus's voice was oddly detached.

Harry twisted and stared. "She did?"

"She's--um--dead," he said carefully. "She died a long time ago. But she had… well, she had a child."

"She did?"

"Yes."

"I have a cousin?"

"Y-yes," Remus stammered, now glaring at Sirius. "I wish Padfoot would tell you this but—I'll try."

"You're like family, Remus," Harry said, aching to know what the hell was going on.

"Well… your aunt wasn't _married_ to the father of her child. And the father—well, he figured he had more of a right to that child than your aunt did. So he took the child. Your—aunt died. When you were just a baby."

"I have a cousin," He repeated.

"Yes. And--well--see… you _know_ him."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do." Remus sighed. "Oh _God_, Padfoot--I'll kill you making me tell him all of this."

"Just tell me!" Harry begged, heart pounding wildly.

"He's at Hogwarts. His father… well, his father's side of the family is very magical and so was your—well, I mean, I guess because his father's side was magical and his aunt was magical, he inherited plenty of magic talent and he's just your age—nine… well, almost nine months older than you—and so he goes to Hogwarts… in your year…"

Harry blinked, processing this information. He had a cousin? And didn't know it? Someone in his _year_? Nobody really had any sort of resemblance, or would he have noticed?

"A Gryffindor?" He asked, though he doubted it. He knew Ron's family, and had met Seamus's mother, and knew that Neville's parents were in Saint Mungo's and he couldn't be related to Dean Thomas—he was raised by his _mother _and stepfather—not his father and stepmother. Plus he was _very_ black and about fifty times better-looking than Harry.

"Nooo, he's not in Gryffindor. Dumbledore should tell you this. Dumbledore or Padfoot, but both are idiots."

"Hufflepuff?"

Remus coughed loudly. "No."

"Ravenclaw?"

Remus tugged at his collar, looking hard at the road. "No," he finally said.

Harry's heart fell. "Slytherin."

"Yes…" Remus mumbled. "He's a Slytherin."

Panic suddenly seized him. It couldn't be. It _couldn't_ be! "Why are you telling me all this suddenly!" He shrieked, fingers digging into Sirius's fur.

Remus puffed out some air and cleared his throat. "Well see—he's your Aunt Petunia's nephew. And, well…"

"His father died."

"Yes. His stepmother died too."

"And let me guess again. Aunt Petunia is the only relative to take him in."

"Only true relative, yes."

Harry went pale and started trembling. "His father was a Death Eater."

Remus still refused to look at him. "Yes. He died yesterday."

Blood was pounding in his head, and his heart was thumping wildly with both fear and anger. "I take it you want me to _guess_."

"Erm…"

"So I will."

"Harry—"

"He's short, blonde and wants me dead."

Remus gritted his teeth and Sirius whimpered again. "I doubt he wants you _dead_ but…"

"But!"

"But otherwise…"

"Malfoy. Draco fucking Malfoy," Harry hissed out. His knuckles were going white as his hands clenched into fists.

Remus sighed again, gripping the steering wheel. "Harry…"

"Malfoy is my fucking _cousin_!"

"I thought it was supposed to be 'Kissing Cousins' not fu—"

If he could throw Sirius, he would. "You KNOW what I MEAN!"

"Well, see—"

"Is he or isn't he."

"Er, see, the thing is—"

"IS HE OR ISN'T HE!" Harry screamed, unable to control his temper any longer.

"YES!" Remus screamed back. "Yes Harry he is. Draco is… related to you…"

Harry sat back in his seat, closed his eyes and very calmly took in a deep breath. Then very calmly let out an ear-splitting scream.

**Author's Note:**

Hehehehehehehe this amuses me so much. I really had a fun time writing this entire story, and the sequel –is currently working on the third- so yes, this will be a trilogy. Maybe there'll be four, I don't know. It depends how to the third one ends up. But enough about that! I hope you enjoy this story. Please review. Flames are welcome because they keep me up in the middle of the night laughing. If you are set against original characters, don't read this story because there are a couple OCs that are central characters… yeah… anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this story.


	3. He's My Cousin!

**CHAPTER THREE - He's My Cousin!**

Draco Malfoy was hunched over a potion, licking his lips in concentration and tried to add one single drop of honeysuckle honey.

"MR. MALFOY!"

The eyedropper squeezed and the teaspoons' worth dropped in his potion, causing it to explode up in his face. He started wiping away the golden goo as someone knocked on his door.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He went over, pawing away. "My father isn't here, Jonathan," He said to the main butler.

Jonathan bowed. "I know, I was referring to you—someone is here to see you, Young Master."

Draco sighed. "In a minute. Tell him—or her—to meet me in the, ah, studio in a minute."

"Yes sir."

Draco hurried into his private bathroom and washed the goop off his face. He changed his clothes and went to the studio where works of art hung.

A tall, fat man was waiting for him. He wore a suit with a waistcoat and a waistcoat watch. He kept dabbing at the sweat dripping down his large, reddish face. If he had a beard, he'd be a shoo-in for Father Christmas.

"Can I help you?" Draco asked, trying to sound older.

The man peered at him. "Mr. Malfoy?" He asked in a nasally, squeaky voice that sounded ridiculous with his looks. "Draco Malfoy?"

"Yyyyyess…" Draco said, folding his arms across his chest.

"My name is Mr. Prowen. I am your father's attorney." Draco found that more ridiculous than his voice. His father wouldn't have chosen someone like this. "I hate bothering you at this hour…" it was late, nearly midnight. "But I had to speak to you before the Ministry of Magic got in touch."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "What is it?"

"As you know—there was a fight." Prowen sniffled slightly. "Between some Death Eaters and a few members of the Phoenix."

"Yes."

"Well--I'm afraid to tell you, some Death Eaters died. Including your father."

Draco didn't move. He couldn't move. He was frozen in shock. His father? Dead? Was that even possible?

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Your father died a few hours ago. And your mother… well…"

"Died too."

"I'm afraid so, yes," Prowen said slowly, as if Draco were a small child. "Leaving you an orphan."

Draco sighed, brushing some blonde hairs from his eyes. "What's the point of all this, Porwin."

"Prowen. And because you are now an orphan, we must find you somewhere to live."

"I can live right here."

"I'm afraid not. Your father left you your fortune, but this place cannot be claimed until you are seventeen."

Draco grit his teeth. "_Fine_. Where do you expect me to live?"

"Welllll… I'm not sure your father _told_ you this but Narcissa wasn't your—"

"Mother, I know," Draco said haughtily. "He told me. So?"

"Well, a blood relative is the first choice to send you."

"My father doesn't have any blood relatives. They all died."

"I know. As I was saying, a blood relative would be the best choice. And since Narcissa… well, her family is family by _marriage_ and not by _blood_, we'd rather not send you with any of them."

Draco snorted. "Like they'd agree to take me in anyway?"

Prowen sighed. "We've tracked down family of your mother's."

Silence for a minute. Draco wasn't even breathing but finally said in a small voice, "My real mother?"

"Yes. Well, not your _mother_ herself. She died, years ago. But she had a sister. Your aunt."

Draco took in deep breaths. He always wanted to know the truth of himself. Of who his mother really was. Lucius never really liked talking about it.

"Christ, Porin."

"Prowen," He corrected. "I've gotten in contact with them. It took some—ah—persuading, but they've agreed."

"Threatening, you mean," Draco said. "And the only reason they agreed is because they'll get a large amount of money, correct?"

"Yes, quite a bit every two weeks—even while you're at Hogwarts." He put on his hat, ready to leave. "Oh—one more thing. They're Muggle. Good day."

------- 

Draco was sitting on his bed, shaking. He could hardly believe it. He was part Muggle? His real mother was Muggleborn? _He_ had Muggle blood flowing through his veins? Had his father known that? Was that why he never told Draco?

He looked down at the address and information. Number Four something Drive. He couldn't quite read the word. P something. Pivot? Private? Prowen?

_Your Aunt Petunia is married to a man named Vernon. They have a child—Dudley and have another child living with them. Another nephew._

Or at least that's what he figured it said. Crossing out the blurred words and letters, it read,

_Our Aunt Petunia marr to man name Vernon. T have a chil –Dudley nd ha e anoher hil ivi g ith t em. N ther eph w. Ry._

Draco shook his head. Well, he wanted to know about his past and he was going to find out--whether he liked it or not.

The ry was part of a name. Larry? Barry? Oh well. He'd find out. But for some reason the other names seemed _so_ familiar!

------- 

The next morning he had to deal with blasted Ministry workers. We regret to inform you, blah-blah-blah. His closest blood relative, blah-blah-blah.

But then he was inspected. For signs of being a Death Eater. He was glad he hadn't the Dark Mark. You couldn't get it until you turned age seventeen—when you came of age.

Draco was given the key to his vault and told he had an hour to pack, so he went upstairs and tossed all his clothes in three parts of his trunk, all his school supplies in the fourth part (each lock opened another section), his sword collection in the fifth part and hair care stuff in the sixth.

Draco got dressed in rather baggy black jeans, a white undershirt and a black button-up T-shirt, though he left it unbuttoned. He put one of his dragon necklaces on and some chains on his pants. One good thing about that ass of a father dying was he was now able to wear whatever he liked.

He stood in front of his mirror and spiked up his hair with a spell. Then stepped back and nodded. He looked good. No, he looked _damn_ good.

"I'm ready to go." He dragged his trunk down to the front hall, looking at all the Ministry workers crawling everywhere. It was odd, but oh well. Voldemort could deal with them.

Prowen was going with him in the limo. Draco sat back, watching through the tinted glass as his mansion disappeared over the horizon.

"I've done some—ah—digging around," Prowen said, clutching some papers.

"Yes?" Draco asked, folding his arms and sitting back.

"I found out the—ah—other nephew."

"Yes?"

"Your aunt's nephew."

"Yes. My cousin."

"Yes," Prowen coughed. "Well, it took a lot of digging around and I've finally found—um—who it is exactly."

"Oh?"

"Another orphaned Wizard from your year in school."

Draco sat straight up, eyes wide. Of _course_ those names sounded familiar. The Dursleys. The Muggle family who took in--

Draco then snapped. He screamed, "HE'S MY COUSIN!"

**Author's Note:**

The internet is really annoying me right now… shockwave has destroyed my computer or _something_, I don't know. Anyway, yeah—reviews are more than welcome. I hope you like this story.


	4. Son of a Mudblood

**CHAPTER FOUR - Son Of A Mudblood**

Remus's car pulled in front of the Dursley house. Harry looked at it with a scowl. This place had always been hell, and now it would be even _worse_!

Was that a—_damn_! A limo sat across the street and Harry hoped it was for the neighbour.

"Wouldn't you rather send me to lawyer camp or something?" Harry asked. "That'd be nicer."

Remus snorted. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry gave Sirius a hug, Remus a hug then dragged his duffel bag out. "Bye guys. Write me."

"Woof!" Sirius said, giving him sad eyes.

"Harry!" Remus hurried over and leaned down. "I was looking through some stuff in my attic and—well—found this." He slipped him a tiny box, about the size of a matchbox. "I don't think Padfoot would… well… just, unshrink it. It has some stuff that belonged to your father."

"Thanks." He hugged Remus and Remus hopped back in the car, flashing him a big grin.

Harry turned and trudged up the walk, as if going to his grave.

Inside, the three Dursleys were in the living room, talking to a big fat man (who was no where near as fat as Vernon). Beside the fat man was _it_.

Harry peered in before standing fully in the doorway. "I'm back."

Nobody answered. The only one who even looked at him was Malfoy. Harry gave him a contemptuous glare before heading up to his bedroom.

What happened to his room?

All the stuff that had been on the floor was pushed into a corner and a strange trunk was at the foot of the bed. Harry set his duffel down and looked at Hedwig's cage. It was full of an Eagle Owl, giving him cross looks.

Harry gulped, realising that either the Dursleys had given Draco his room or else--

------- 

"You're to share." Vernon said after the lawyer guy had left. They were all in the living room, and Vernon looked miserable (though Harry noted there was some money notes being clutched in one hand. He was being paid to keep Draco. Which meant he'd like Draco a little more than he liked Harry).

"I'd rather be shot," Draco said, folding his arms. Dudley gave a slight laugh before being silenced by Vernon.

"Harry, this is your… cousin…" Petunia said, one hand on Draco's shoulder. Vernon gave a laugh before leaving the room.

"We have _met_," growled Harry.

"Yes. School I suppose." Petunia sighed. "Well, go help him settle in."

"I'd rather have spikes shoved up my nose," Harry said.

"That could be arranged," said Draco, looking elated by the idea.

"Follow me."

The two went upstairs and into the tiny bedroom. Draco slammed the door behind them. "Fuck this, Potter—I can't believe we're related."

"_You_ can't believe it! I'd rather have no cousin than… _you,_" snarled Harry. "I suppose one of us has to sleep on the floor."

"That'll be you."

"Um, nnnooo… this is my room first."

"When's your birthday?"

"July 31st."

"What year? 1980?"

"Yes."

"I'm older," Draco said, sitting on the bed. "I get this."

"I've lived here longer," argued Harry. "I get it."

"Ummm no." Draco lay back, staring at the ceiling.

"So your father was killed."

"Yep."

"Aren't you sad?"

"Not really. I hated his guts and everything else." Draco sat back up. "Why should I be sad? He was number two on my list of People I Want See Dead."

"I suppose I'm number one?'

"Don't flatter yourself, you're three. Vorin Nott is number one."

"Oh, that jerk in our year?"

"Mm-hmm."

"So, why weren't you in the fight?" Harry asked nastily.

Draco waved his left arm around. "See a Dark Mark? No? Then _newsflash_, Potter—I'm not a Death Eater. Though I suppose that idea is much too radical for your puny intelligence."

Harry held his head high. "Did you know we were related?"

"If I had before, I would have thrown myself off a cliff and onto jagged, burning rocks," Draco said casually, going over to the window and peering out. "Blunt rocks," he added. "How can you stand living with Muggles?"

"I manage."

"It's disgusting."

"I can't believe your mother was Muggleborn. That's hilarious," Harry said, grinning.

"I don't give a shit about my Mudblood mother," Draco said with a sneer.

"That makes you son of a Mudblood."

"As are you, genius."

"I don't think your mother was even Muggleborn. I think she was just plain Muggle. Which makes _you_ half-and-half."

Draco looked revolted at the idea. "I'd rather be half-and-half than look like you."

"Oh, _wonderful_ comeback there Einstein."

"Einstein?" He asked with a frown.

Harry tried not to laugh. "I get the bed."

------- 

It took a long time of arguing. Finally, Draco agreed to sleep on the floor only if he got the bed stuff. "Only fair."

Harry agreed, and then watched with anger as, with one mighty tug, Draco pulled the mattress off and onto the floor leaving the box springs for Harry to sleep on.

"You ass!"

Draco collapsed down onto the mattress. "A mattress is part of 'bed stuff'. Though how you sleep on this is beyond me. I should have brought my feather mattress.

Aunt Petunia called for dinner and, with two impressive glares, the two boys headed downstairs.

**Author's Note:**

Short chapter but oh well. Umm… I can't answer any questions cause there's no reviews. I hope to get some soon, though :-)


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